The Broken Symphony of the Archipelago, Entrusting the Sky to Tomorrow’s Generation!!
By: Ahmad Mahfud Qhozin
In a hidden corner at the foot of Mount Kelud, East Java, where a thin mist often descends to greet the treetops, lives a middle-aged man named Pak Sayuti. To the villagers around Kediri and Blitar, Pak Sayuti is more than just an ordinary old man. He is a living witness to the golden age of East Java’s natural beauty, a time when the air still smelled of wet earth and the morning sky was always filled with the “concert” of thousands of chirping birds.
That evening, Pak Sayuti sat on a worn teak chair in front of his house. Next to him, his beloved grandson, Aryasatya, a college student who had just returned home, was enjoying a cup of hot coffee. However, there was something strange about Pak Sayuti’s expression. His cloudy eyes continued to stare at the branches of a towering coconut tree at the edge of the rice fields.
“Aryasatya, listen,” Pak Sayuti whispered.
Aryasatya put down his cup and tried to sharpen his hearing. “What do you hear, Grandpa? Just the sound of the wind and a distant tractor engine.”
Mr. Sayuti smiled bitterly. “That’s precisely the problem. It’s quiet and too quiet.”
The middle-aged man then began to tell his story. Once upon a time, in this land of East Java, there lived a mighty bird, despite its tiny size. The people here knew it as the Cendet (Lanius schach). This bird was a true icon. With a black mask over its eyes, resembling a mysterious hero, the Cendet was an intelligent bird. It could imitate any sound, from the whistle of a sparrow to the crow of a rooster to the creak of a rusty door.
“Back then, when Grandpa walked to the rice fields at dawn, the Cendet would perch proudly on a dry branch. They were the ‘Champions’ who guarded the fields. They preyed on grasshoppers, caterpillars, and even small mice. Farmers didn’t have to worry about pests because the Cendet was their natural police,” Mr. Sayuti recalled.
However, that narrative of beauty has now turned into a sad tale of human greed. Mr. Sayuti recounted how the Cendet’s status as a popular songbird in East Java has actually become a curse for the species. Bird singing contests, which have mushroomed in every corner of cities and villages, have created unstoppable market demand.
“Humans are strange,” Mr. Sayuti continued, his voice rising. “They say they love the Cendet’s voice, but the way they show their love is by imprisoning it. Because the price of a chirping Cendet can reach millions of rupiah, people are starting to lose heart.”
In East Java, poaching has become a systematic, illegal industry. Mr. Sayuti recounted how he often sees people from outside the village entering the forests on the mountain slopes carrying resin and fine nets. They not only catch adult birds but also climb tall trees to retrieve nests containing eggs or young red-rumped shamas, which locals call “piyikan.” As a result, the Cendet’s reproductive cycle has been completely disrupted. The problem goes beyond poaching. Mr. Sayuti pointed to the expanse of rice fields that now looked incredibly green, yet ecologically “dead.” “Look at those rice fields, Di. Now farmers want everything instant. Pesticides are sprayed daily. The insects that the long-tailed shrikes feed on are dying from the poison. They’ve lost their homes, their food, and their freedom.”
Aryasatya listened to his grandfather in silence. He remembered passing the city’s bird market, rows of small, cramped cages filled with stressed-out long-tailed shrikes, plucking their own feathers, and losing their sparkle. What had been considered a common hobby was actually part of a massive extinction disaster.
“So, what will happen to the other animals, Grandpa? If the long-tailed shrikes, which used to be everywhere, are starting to disappear, what about tigers or rhinos?” Aryasatya asked anxiously.
Mr. Sayuti adjusted his seat. “That’s the point, son. This long-tailed shrike is a warning. If an animal that was once so abundant in Java is threatened with extinction because of our actions, what more are Indonesia’s other endemic species, whose numbers are already low? Sumatran tigers, rhinos, orangutans… they all face the same challenges: deforestation, poaching, and habitat loss.”
Mr. Sayuti’s narrative depicts Indonesia as a beautiful home, but its foundations are being eroded by its own owners. Unpredictable climate change in East Java, such as long dry seasons and flash floods, is making it increasingly difficult for these animals to survive. The forests on the slopes of Mount Kelud and its surroundings are increasingly being cleared, turned into farms that only prioritize short-term economic gain.
“So what can we do, Grandpa? Are we just going to watch until all the birds in the sky are gone?”
Mr. Sayuti looked at his grandson. “You’re a young man, you have a voice. The first step
the key is to stop thinking that having wild animals in cages is a symbol of status or achievement. If you want to keep a bird, look for one that’s been bred in captivity or breeding, one that already has a ring on its leg. This means the bird wasn’t stolen from nature.”
He also emphasized the importance of restoring nature’s function. Communities must be aware of avoiding excessive pesticide use and allowing local trees to continue growing as nesting grounds. Education for hunters in villages is essential; they need to be provided with alternative livelihoods so they no longer despoil the forest.
“The fate of Indonesia’s flora and fauna is in the hands of your generation, son. Don’t tell your children about the long-tailed shrike only through videos. “Don’t let the skies of East Java become completely silent,” concluded Mr. Sayuti.
The sun finally set behind the horizon, leaving a fiery red glow in the sky. Aryasatya looked up at the vast sky, hoping that one day, he would see the shadow of a long-tailed shrike passing majestically, emitting its intelligent mimicry, flying freely without fear of human nets.
Mr. Sayuti’s story that evening was not just a coffee-drinking tale, but rather an urgent call from the heart of East Java. Environmental sustainability is not about saving just one or two species, but about maintaining the harmony of life between humans and all of God’s creation. If one part of that symphony is lost, the song of life in the archipelago will never be the same again.
Through the Earth Forum organized by the KEHATI Foundation and National Geographic Indonesia, I hope this article can change people’s perspectives and encourage them to continue protecting and preserving life in the archipelago.
As individuals, we can also contribute, no matter how small. We can start by educating ourselves about the essence of flora and fauna biodiversity as components of the Indonesian archipelago. Nature.
*Jombang, January 3, 2026
“Quote from a speaker at Earth Forum 3 (KEHATI Foundation & NatGeo Indonesia).”
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